A Million Tides
by Ocean of Ashes
Summary: An indulgent expansion on Addison's dream in the latest chapter of my ongoing story, Be Careful What You Wish For, based on Alex and Addison's kiss at Joe's in Episode 3.12. One Shot.


Author's Note: The idea for this one-shot actually came from the chapter I just wrote for 'Be careful what you wish for' in which Addison has a dream sequence about the kiss she and Alex shared at the end of episode 3.12. It's my very favourite scene between the pair of them so I thought I would indulge myself, take it out of the dream and expand on it. It is purely for my enjoyment, but if you also enjoy it, I would love to hear. And if you haven't checked it out already, please have a read of _Be careful what you wish for. _If you're an Addex fan who's been holding off on it because all of the Maddison-ness, I can promise it's going to get interesting for you soon!

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies, with particular reference to Episode 3.12. The title of this piece, 'A million tides', is of course part of the lyrics from The Slip's 'A Life in Disguise' which plays over this scene in the episode.

A million tides

Addison felt steamrollered. She had spent most of the day trying to think of a more eloquent way to put it, but she was just crushed under the weight of so very many emotions that she couldn't even _think. _

Today, she could have been a mother. Today, she could have been cradling her baby in her arms right now; another human being to take care of and love, and be loved by. Today, she could have had that magnificent, wonderful bond that she witnessed in her work every day but had never sampled for herself.

Motherhood_. _

God, why the Hell had she had the abortion? _Why _had she not wanted the baby? Sure, she did it for Derek and to save their marriage, but _why_? What stupid, idealistic notion made her think that the tatters of a relationship she had already sabotaged was worth more to her than being a mother?

She was _so _stupid. Mark. Derek. All of it. Anger, revenge, desperation, hurt, love, loss. She couldn't even begin to unpick it all – she could no longer tell where one bad decision she made ended and the next one began, just that she was hurting, every day, and today had been one of the very worst.

Mark was right; she didn't get the high horse now. Slowly, it dawned on her just how much she hated herself.

'Joe,' she called out, 'could I have another glass of bourbon please.'

'Sure.' Joe refilled her glass and set it down in front of her. It was her third now, and although she was nowhere near the oblivion of drunkenness, the outer edges of her consciousness were beginning to blur. Thank God it was a quiet night in the bar, and that there was no-one she knew in. She didn't think she'd be able to face anyone tonight.

'You wanna talk about it?' Joe asked sagely.

She shook her head. 'Not really.'

'No problem.' He went back to polishing some glasses. 'I'll be just up here if you need anything.'

She slowly sipped at the amber liquid, wincing as it fired its way down her throat. It tasted good and she sighed, trying to persuade herself that getting drunk would be a good idea; at least it would pass the time. But it wasn't really helping. The trouble was, she didn't know what would.

To try to take her mind off her own troubles, she thought of O'Malley. He was about to lose his dad, if he hadn't already. She remembered when her own father died, in her second year of residency. It had been peaceful, and un-traumatic as far as these things go – a brief period of congestive heart failure followed by gently slipping away with the family around the bedside – but she would never forget the way her world had just seemed to tilt, and all of a sudden she was clinging onto the edge of it by her fingertips.

It got better over time, and she had Derek, who made it better quicker, but that feeling of being utterly displaced lingered. In a moment, she had become a lost child and sometimes she wasn't sure she ever found herself again.

George had all that to look forward to.

Just then, she saw the door open, and Alex made his way over to the bar. He was wearing his overcoat, with a dark open necked shirt underneath and he looked drained and tired. She watched quietly as Joe passed him a beer and asked about George's dad.

Alex gave a little shake of his head, and took a swig from his bottle of beer.

'Hey.' He was going to notice her sitting there anyway, and she guessed if she wanted to see anyone from the hospital tonight, then Alex wouldn't be so bad. At least he… Cared?

He took another draught of beer and slid onto the stool next to her. He hadn't expected for a second that she would be here this evening – martinis at the bar in the Archfield or room service champagne perhaps, but not here.

He was glad she was though.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was glad; in truth he was tired and felt as if he had been through the mill with George's dad and all, and he'd been looking forward to a quiet drink alone. He just wanted a couple of hours to himself, to be himself without having to put on the usual act of bluster and bravado.

But seeing her sitting there with those wide blue eyes full of this haunting vulnerability and her half finished glass of whiskey in front of her… He knew it was stupid but he wanted to reach out to her. And he knew she wouldn't mind if he reached out as himself.

_Well the world is only a stage  
__And I'm just a man  
__With a sound caught in his throat  
__And a pick in his hand_

As he came closer, she could see the lines of tiredness around his eyes. If she felt steamrollered, then he didn't look a whole lot better.

She tapped at the rim of her glass pensively, having lost interest in its contents, and looked up at him. 'You got a dad?'

'Not really, not anymore.'

_A dad. _He couldn't imagine having a dad like George's, who loved his family and who was happy and full of life even when almost on his deathbed. He couldn't begin to picture what sort of a family life that must have created. One with camping trips he supposed, and birthday parties, and being taught how to ride a bike.

The man he shared some DNA with wasn't a dad, or even a father – he was a drunk and a bully, and it was the best day's work he would ever do throwing him out of the house to protect his mother. So why the Hell hadn't she seen it that way?

_But when the song comes tumbling out you understand  
__There's no great demand_

His tone was flat, and Addison knew better than to pry further. She suddenly realised though, that that look in his eyes, which she'd always mistaken for an intern's exhaustion, or cynicism or downright hostility depending on what mood he seemed to be in at the time, was in fact pain. The pain of a lingering damage to his soul.

On another day, another week, she might have been curious as to what had caused it, but not tonight. Tonight, she simply recognised it.

He looked beautiful, she thought. Sad and vulnerable and utterly beautiful. She desperately wanted to reach out to him and show him a little of the kindness that he had shown her, but her conscience tried to dissuade her. She was an attending, _his _attending. She was taking advantage. It wasn't fair to draw him into her disastrous life.

Then he gave her a brief, fleeting smile. She wasn't sure what he meant by it, but all it did was make him seem more tragic. And she knew he _understood._

_Well it's there under your breath, behind your eyes  
__And you don't have to say nothing cause I realise_

He gazed at her with that deep brown soulful gaze of his, and she felt herself falling. With more confidence than she felt, she stroked his cheek.

_That everything somehow in some way eventually dies  
__It's life in disguise_

Alex felt her cool fingers caress his face, just up to the edge of his hairline. Her touch sent a shiver up his spine: he felt like she'd given him an electric shock. Increasingly, he'd been regretting his earlier attitude of hostility towards her. She was talented and smart and strong, and so, so dignified in the face of the constant attacks from Shepherd and Sloan. He'd thought Derek was all right until he saw the way he could make Addison's face crumple with a single remark. And Sloan… Well, he was used to being disappointed by male role models.

Sometimes, like when they'd been standing together over the incubator, he saw her – and he was pretty sure he was the only one who had – with such a look of sorrow in her eyes that you would have had to have a heart of stone not to want to help her. And he felt for the first time ever that his heart wasn't stone.

He had a strange sense that came without words or gestures that she needed him, and it began to dawn on him that he needed her.

Slowly, he leaned towards her, never taking his eyes away from her beautiful face, and then she was coming to meet him.

_It's your room and your board and your fireside  
__It's a shell that's been washed by a million tides  
__And if you're there you can see how bright it shines_

The space between them had disappeared and there was nothing left but the kiss. It was incredible, amazing, stunning, and Addison wondered how he had managed to make her heart both stop and jump start at the same time.

She could feel his lips moving against hers and there was tenderness there, but what struck her most was the utter surety of it. There was not a trace of doubt in him, not in the way he kissed her or the way he tasted, or the cold hand that moved from the bar to her knee with the tips of his fingers slightly under the hemline of her skirt.

It felt _right_. And real. At that second, it felt more real than twelve years of marriage with Derek, and certainly more real than twelve weeks of denial with Mark. She cradled her face in her hands, afraid to let go.

_When there's nobody left in your head, in your heart  
__When the whole world has packed up in shadows and left you for dead  
__When you can't fake a smile and you just can't get out of your bed_

Alex kept kissing her until his head began to spin from the lack of oxygen. He would have carried on forever though, and to Hell with breathing, but she pulled away. The uncertainty he had tasted on her lips was in her eyes and she withdrew her hands.

His skin felt cold without them there.

She looked like she was going to take flight, but he wasn't going to let her. They both needed this, and he'd had enough of charged looks and tiptoeing politeness. He increased the pressure on her knee just enough to make her think twice about getting up.

'What now?' he asked.

He watched her carefully as her eyes flooded with indecision, and he waited, hoping. That kiss had made him feel things he didn't understand but that he wanted to. After an age, he felt her take his hand and entwine her fingers with his.

She shrugged her shoulders a little, and he smiled softly at the crinkle of worry that appears on her forehead.

'I don't want you to think –'

He didn't want her to finish the sentence and be forced to cheapen herself, or the moment. He knew what she meant, some jumbled self loathing about wrecking her marriage, Derek, Mark, being another attending screwing an intern. It didn't matter. None of it did. And this wasn't just going to be screwing an attending for him. He still didn't know what he wanted it to be, but he knew he wanted more than that.

'I don't,' he cut across her. 'Trust me, I don't.'

Addison sighed, and let him pull her to her feet. She couldn't help but think she _wasn't _going to regret this in the morning.

'Where do you live?'

'Not my place.'

Then they were outside in the rain, and he had one arm around her waist and hailed a cab with the other. When it pulled up, he leaned forward, and said, 'The Archfield, please,' through the open window. The driver nodded.

Before they got in, he turned to her. 'You're sure?' he checked. He needed her to be sure. He couldn't handle this if she changed her mind.

She leaned into him, pressing her body against his, and she couldn't help but notice how well they fitted together.

'I'm sure.'

Alex opened the door of the cab and helped her in, sliding in next to her closely. The rain had plastered her hair to her face and tenderly he brushed a tendril of it away. He saw that she didn't look uncertain anymore.

_When the people you led turn to you looking so hungry and bare  
__And you were the one that had brought them there  
__And all you can do is just stare and your hands and whisper my name_

She squeezed his hand, and breathed in his ear, softly. What he'd thought was rain on her cheeks were tears.

'Alex.'

'It's okay,' he said. 'We're going to be okay.'


End file.
